#1
Another villanelle.

For the wind and rain are at my call;
And the universe my writing block.
But love makes slaves of all.

I end all creatures great and small
The dead are men whose lives I’ve took.
The wind and rain are at my call.

And I have providence over many great and all;
But at her sight my body shook;
For love makes slaves of all.

I gave her gold; moved mountain tall
For her hopeful honeyed look.
The wind and rain are at my call.

But me an ugly, deathly troll;
My affections one and all mistook;
For love makes slaves of all.

So from my heights she made me fall;
And I could make her cook,
For wind and rain are at my call;
But love, yes love, makes slaves of all.
Last edited by Acidshred at Jul 2, 2010,